


Missing You

by JeffersonStarships



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Lots of it, M/M, May Parker (Spider-Man) Dies, No Plot/Plotless, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25971544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeffersonStarships/pseuds/JeffersonStarships
Summary: May's got cancer, and Peter can't web it away.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	Missing You

**Author's Note:**

> My way of dealing with current griefs. Not sure it its any good since I don't have a beta. I also wrote it in nearly one sitting so take that as you will.

Sitting in Aunt May’s hospital room, laughing. Gwen is holding his hand. Harry is telling a story. May is smiling. After weeks of sad smiles, this is different. Happy smiles. The lightweight kind that makes you forget why you were sad. The delirious kind that don’t last, but boy, do they make you want to live in them. 

Wade is laid on the foot of the bed. He’s wearing his image inducer, and almost none of his weapons under a baseball cap and thick, black hoodie. He’s laughing too. A rough barraton of scars on vocal cords -music to Peter’s ears.

Wade’s warming up to Harry slowly. So slowly. But he’s laughing, too.

Peter feels so at home, he could die here and not even complain. All his favorite people were here, happy. Not healthy but happy.

May’s cough silences the room.

A hacking, violent force of nature. Cancer. 

Peter turned in his chair, using a free hand to rub at her back, as useless as that felt.

When the coughing fit ended, she adjusted her nasal cannula and turned a sad smile on Peter. Taking his hand and kissing his fingers. “Oh, Sweetheart,” she shakes her head, “No frowns. I missed your smile.”

Looks like he’s not the only one missing happy moments. 

Peter frowns harder, and sinks in his chair, “Sorry.”

Gwen lays her head on his shoulder, “Anyone else starving? What’s a girl gotta do to get some grub?” She flicks her foot out and kicks Harry in the ankle, “Cough, cough, moneybags.”

Harry huffs a laugh, “Just because I can get food delivered, doesn’t mean I should.”

“You kids go get some food,” May smiles, “I’m not going anywhere. Plus, it’s been a while since I laughed so hard, I need a nap.”

Wade rubs at her shin, and stands. “That’s how a polite woman kicks us out,” he announces. 

May blushes, the hue too bright on her pale skin, but she doesn’t correct him.

Peter chuckles, and leans in to kiss her cheek, brushing his hand over her hair, “Sorry we overstayed,” he says.

“Nonsense,” she kisses his cheek. “You guys are welcome anytime. I just tire easily nowadays.” Peter could see that tiredness in her eyes, it never really left. 

“Okay,” Peter nods and stands, bringing Gwen up with him. “See you tomorrow, okay?” 

If she has that long left in her, he doesn’t say. 

Everyday is a struggle for May, between the pain, chemo, and coughs, it’s like a rollercoaster of torment. And Peter’s in the seat beside her. Holding her hand as best he can, waiting and suffering and hoping alongside her.

She lays back, and already looks half asleep, “See you then, honey.”

Gwen holds his hand and guides him out into the hall, Wade’s hand slides down his back as he passes, but then he leans down and whispers something in May’s ear that makes her smile again. Another true smile. It disappears from sight as Peter steps out of the room. The door closing behind him.

Gwen leans against his shoulder as they walk down the hall.

“What you guys thinking? Thai?” Harry asks as he searches for places nearby on his phone as he walks.

“Pizza!” Gwen says in a hurry, but clears her throat. “Pizza, please.”

Peter laughs a little but his mind was still stuck on May’s smile. Wade makes it easy for those little smiles to appear. May really liked him. If Peter didn’t know any better, it would seem like Wade was trying to woo her. But Wade was like that with everyone, flirting to his heart’s content, though his more vulgar flirting was done while in his suit. 

Wade had come on to Captain America soooo many times, and made his blush every time by the pure, purring compliments and comments. 

Everyone thought Cap so straight it hurt, but Peter knew better. Wade was starting to get under his skin. 

Gwen snapped her fingers in Peter’s eyeline, “Earth to Peter? You read me, space cadet?”

Peter waved her hand away from his face, “Sorry, what?”

The three of them were stopped in the hall, a nurse hurrying past doing rounds. She didn’t seem to mind them.

Harry caught his eye, “Are you okay?”

Peter heard Wade come out of May’s room and hurry to catch up with them. 

“I’m fine,” Peter said easily, it tasted like a lie on his tongue.

Harry smiled, “Good, let’s go get something to eat.

“Hey guys,” Wade says softly, “I’m not feeling so good. You mind if I cut out?”

“Aww,” Gwen smirked, “Got a tummy ache?”

Wade rubbed his chin, but even through the image inducer, lowered hat and hood, Peter could tell what was wrong. Bad skin day. He’d been careful with himself all day. “Something like that.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Peter offered.

Wade watched him for a second, and nodded. “Sure.”

Peter turned to Harry, “Rain check?”

Harry looked between Peter and Wade with a knowing smirk, “Yeah, sure.”

“Yeah,” Gwen nodded, but her smile was shit eating, “Catch you later, champ.”

Peter and Wade slip away from the other two and exit out to the street.

The sun hasn’t quite set, Peter notes distantly as they walk. If they keep their pace up, he might be able to grab something from the kitchen to eat before patrol.

Maybe Wade would come along. He does that sometimes. 

But then he remembers it’s a bad skin day. No patrol for Wade.

It’ll just be Peter and Gwen… and Gwen’s sass. 

He smiles softly at the thought.

Peter starts when Wade’s hand brushes his. The nantotec gloves always make Peter’s skin crawl. 

He looks up at Wade, who looks like he’s been watching him for a while.

“May looked better today,” Wade says softly. So softly.

“Hmm,” Peter nods and looks down at his shoes as they walk.

Wade gingerly wraps his arm around Peter’s shoulder, “I’m not feeling like patrolling tonight. You and Gwen are going to have to have all the fun without me, okay? But not too much fun, huh, Itsy Bitsy?”

Peter smirks at the nickname and leans into Wade embrace, “Whatever you say, Red.”

“She looked good today too,” he says softer, gentler. Like he’s revealing a secret. Wade is low key obsessed with Gwen. Her perfect blue eyes, and golden hair. Peter got the feeling Wade was jealous of her. She reminds him of himself before Weapon X.

“Gwen? Yeah, I guess so,” Peter says matching his tone. He used to be obsessed with Gwen once upon a time too. Hell, he had been in love with her. But she’s… guarded. Peter gets the feeling she’s too much like himself. Too afraid. Too careful. Falling apart with guilt.

She got her father killed just like Peter got Uncle Ben killed. Carelessness. 

But unlike Gwen, Peter had someone who wouldn’t let things lie. He poked a prodded and inspected and left Peter feeling like a science experiment sometimes, but he worked his way under Peter’s skin. 

Maybe that’s why Peter abandoned his love for Gwen… he was in love with someone else.

Despite the gloves, Peter brushed the back of his hand against the one Wade had thrown over his shoulder.

Too bad he was too much a coward to do more than that.

Before Peter was ready, they were climbing the stairs to their apartment. He hardly remembered the walk.

“Oh, home sweet home,” Wade sighed as he kicked the door closed behind them. He ripped off the inducer and flung it and his hat away carelessly on the way to his room, he started stripping himself. Coat. shoes. Socks. Pants. And then the door was closing and Peter was left to float in his thoughts as he made his way to the kitchen.

He was still looking through the cupboards when Wade came in wearing his softest sweatpants and favorite unicorn sweater that had a rainbow, halo horn and everything.

“You want me to cook you something before you go?” Wade asked, grabbing a bottled water from the fridge.

“No, you’re having a bad skin day remember?”

“I’m never in too much pain to take care of you,” Wade smirked charmingly, his scars wrinkling around his mouth just the way Peter loves. 

Peter throws a dish towel at him, though it is easily caught. “You should be taking a bath in moisturizer, not ‘taking care’ of me.”

Wade shrugs and pulls out a bottle of moisturizer from the pouch on the front of his sweater, wiggling his hairless eyebrows as he says “Maybe I can do both, Baby boy?”

Peter raises his eyebrow, and looks at the time on display on the microwave, “If you’re not going on patrol, you’re missing Golden Girls.”

“Blanche!” Wade shouts in surprise before he’s scuffleing out to the living room with his bunny foot slippers firmly in place, already lathering his face and neck with lotion as he goes.

Peter can’t help his chuckle.

  
  
  
  


Spider-Man takes to the streets an hour after sundown. He swings through his patrol in near silence. He takes out the usual scum as he goes. Dealers. Thieves. Kittens in trees. An evening bank robbery that somewhere in the middle of Spider-Girl swings up beside him.

“Need a hand?” she asks Peter as she dropkicks a goon with a gun who had been aiming at Peter.

“Thanks,” Peter grunts as he uses his webs to steal a gun from the hands of another.

“Awwww,” She pouts through her mask, as she webs her goon to the floor, “No Deadpool tonight? I thought he just wanted to get away from Mister rich and powerful.”

“Bad skin day,” Peter shrugs as he adjusts his web shooters needlessly and approaches the now weaponless goon who looks ready to shit himself.

“Mmm,” she hums understandingly. She’s one of the few people beside Peter that have seen Wade without an image inducer on. Even Aunt May hadn’t- hasn’t seen him without it.

Peter sighs to himself instead of webbing the guy up, gives him a brutal uppercut.

“You guys missed some killer pizza,” she says as she catches his eye, then turning down to the guy unconscious on the floor, “So much grease, it almost sent Mister R and P to the ER.” At his flat looks she shakes her head and looks away, her shoulders dropping. “Tough crowd,” she says to herself.

Peter hears the tell tale sound of sirens approaching, and with everything handled here, he and Gwen take off.

They only make it a few blocks away before Gwen catches his arm, “You didn’t need to hit that guy, and we both know it.”

“Leave it, Gwen,” Peter sighs and pulls his arm away.

Peter looks out over his city. Queens smiles back. Because even with all her shaddows, she’s a queen. She’s strong and resilient and enduring. Whatever happens to her, she gets back up.

“She’ll get better,” Gwen says. “She’s tough, your Aunt May.”

“I know,” Peter says softly.

“You really don’t have to worry so much,” she says, then taking his hand, she whispers, “ _ We miss you, Peter _ .” 

Peter looks at her, “I’m right here. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Haven’t you?” she insists. “Even when you’re here. You’re not here. You’re in your head. She’s not gone yet, Peter. You don’t have to grieve her, yet.”

Peter swallows and looks away. He gets to his feet. “I have to go.”

She waves as he goes, but isn’t it subdued. 

He just heads home and crawls into his bed. He thought he would cry when he gets there, but tears won’t come. 

He stares at the ceiling until he falls asleep.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Peter is slow to waking the next morning. His nightmares stay longer in his head than he would like.

It’s mostly just vague images. Blood and darkness and more blood, all set to the sound of one of May’s coughing fits.

Eventually his alarm goes off and he slides out of bed to get ready for school.

In the bathroom, he catches sight of himself. Limp, dark curls and dark circles under his brown eyes. He looks pale. And thinner than he remembers. 

For a second, all he can see is May. Her deep colored eyes and pale skin. Cold to the touch. Fading. Her light sparking out of her. 

He turns away from it.

Washes his face and brushes his teeth without looking up again. 

He flees the bathroom as soon as he can.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Wade says from over his Cheerios, when Peter walks into the kitchen. He’s got his suit on and his mask is sitting on the counter just within reach. Peter spots the duffle bag of only god knows what next to him.

“You got a job?” Peter asks as he grabs a bowl from the cupboard and sits across from Wade.

“No,” Wade says deadpan, batting his eyelashes, “Why you ask?”

Peter fills his bowl with the cereal and milk Wade had left on the table. “I figured you had something special planned, since you’re wearing the armoured suit instead of the walking condom version.”

“Oh, Petey,” Wade smirks, then his voice goes dark and sensual “That one is just for you and me.”

Peter choked on his Cheerios. 

Wade laughs easily and Peter flicks a bit of cereal at him, a Cheerio plopping on, and sticking to, the middle of Wade’s forehead.

Wade makes a hurt noise and wipes it away, “No fair! I only have milk left!”

Peter sticks his tongue out at him.

“Oh it’s on Baby boy,” Wade says menacingly as he grabs the box of Cheerios off the table.

Peter does the smart thing and bails into the living room, but Wade follows him and soon enough they’re having a Cheerio fight in the middle of the room. And they aren’t ever going to find all of them now.

When the Cheerios run dry, Peter starts throwing throw pillows from the couch, “Perfectly named,” Peter comments as he grabs an arm full and hides behind the armchair. There is plenty of ammo since Wade nests with like a thousand pillows on every surface that lounging can happen on.

Little does he realize Wade has given up on throwing things and is in the mood for more hands on approaches.

Peter’s Spidey sense has him turning just in time to find Wade tackling him to the floor.

The downstairs neighbors are banging on the ceiling with a broom because of all the noise, but Peter couldn’t care less as he laughs and he fights off Wade in a mindless wrestle.

Wade eventually gets Peter’s hands pinned over his head. “AH HA!” Wade crows as the downstairs neighbors lose their fucking minds. 

“You know,” Peter pants in exertion, “I could throw you across the room without breaking a sweat, right?”

Wade smiles and leans in close, his eyes squinting, “I’d like to see you try.”

Peter laughs out loud, a full body thing.

Wade laughs with him, and when Peter comes back to himself he finds Wade still holding him down.

“Well,” Wade whispers in Peter’s ear, “There you are.”

Goosebumps skitter up Peter’s back and his breath catches, “What?” he gasps.

Wade moves only so much as to catch Peter’s eye. His pupils are blown wide, and if Peter couldn’t breath before, he sure can’t now. “There you are. I missed you.”

But this feeling… Peter knows Wade doesn’t mean it. He’s like Gwen, he just wants Peter to come back out of his shell. But it’s safe in here. So safe in his head.

Peter doesn’t know what he would do if he came back out. It feels like his life is not hold. 

Sure, he still goes to school, still goes on patrol, still is Wade’s roommate, still Harry’s and Gwen’s best friend. But he isn’t Peter Parker I.e. human being. 

At least he doesn’t feel that way.

But in the end, Peter knows Wade doesn’t miss what he’s never had. He’s never had Peter lain out under him. He’s never kissed Peter before. Never had Peter. Never even touched Peter more than a friend. 

Wade hand cups Peter’s jaw, and Peter’s eyes snap to Wade’s mouth. “Don’t go,” he says, “Not yet. I miss you. Where’s my friend. The one who used to… Where are you?”

Peter’s eyes take the journey to Wade’s eyes. And Peter’s chest hurts with phantom pains. Wade looks like he might cry.

Peter’s fingers find Wade’s on his face, “Wade, I-”

“Wade!” someone pounds on the door, making them both flinch, but Wade keeps eye contact.

“Peter,” he says softly, and the knocking on the door goes on and on, but neither of them move. 

Peter has to look away. He glances at the door and that’s all it takes for Wade to reel back and get to his feet. Peter doesn’t move from his spot on the floor as Wade answers the door.

“I was knocking,” Captain America says from under his image inducer, but then his eyes track the mess over Wade’s shoulder to where Peter is lying on the floor. He looks like he wants to comment on the mess of Cheerios and pillows but he shakes his head and decides against it. He turns back to Wade, “You ready?”

“Just a sec, Captain Sweetass,” Wade jokes easily, “I just gotta hide the suit under some civies.” He walks into the kitchen with a skip in his step. He doesn’t spare a glance for Peter.

Cap steps in from the hall, and Peter decides maybe he should get off the hardwood. 

“Sooo,” Cap says stepping on a Cheerio with a satisfying crunch, “How’s school, Peter?”

Peter almost rolls his eyes, “Tony send you to check up on me instead of doing in hims-”

“He didn’t send me,” Cap interrupts, but then he pauses and thinks for a second, “He misses you though.”

He scuffs his shoe on the floor, “He knows where to find me.”

Whatever Cap was going to say, it is cut off as Wade walks out in some sweats and his image inducer. “Now let’s go kick some ass,” he turns to Peter as he ushers Cap out the door, “Have fun at school, Sweetie!” He closes the door before Peter can respond.

  
  
  
  
  


May is asleep when Peter walks into her room. The rattle and shake of her breathing familiar by now. 

He brought her a bouquet of pink carnations. Her favorite flower.

He sets them in her empty vase. The previous flowers discarded already.

Wade had bought her roses last week.

Huge, red blooms so full of life and love and hope May had broken into tears when he gave them to her.

Peter carefully sits in the creaky chair beside her. It’s useless. May’s eyes snap open and catch Peter’s

“Honey,” she croaks and starts a coughing fit that seems like it never ends. Peter tries to rub her back and soothe at least  _ some _ of the pain, but after a few minutes, May presses the button for the nurse. After a few more minutes, Peter is out in the hall calling for a nurse himself. 

Help! Someone! Please, she can’t breath! Please, help!

He spends another night in a waiting room as they rush her to surgery to drain the fluid from her lungs again.

He waits all night. 

In the end, a nurse comes down the hall to let him send a few moments with May as she sleeps through her anesthetic. 

He lays his head against her hand and not for the first time, prays for her. He’s not even sure if he believes in prayer, but he can’t stop himself. She has to make it. She has to. 

He misses her. 

Misses her terrible cooking. Misses the way she used to make people bend over backwards to please her because she was beautiful and kind and understanding.

She was shocked to find out he was Spider-Man, but she was never angry. Scared maybe, but she never showed it. She was strong and loving and everything good in Peter’s life for a long, long time. 

Peter still felt like a child sometimes, but never more than when he’s holding her hand and praying to whoever will listen to save her. He’s only nineteen. He’s not ready to be alone. The last with the Parker name. The last person to have loved Uncle Ben. To know Mary and Richard Parker.

Carrying their stories is too much to carry alone. 

He doesn’t know if he can carry hers too.

Still half asleep, May’s frail fingers tightening in his hand. 

“May,” Peter cries softly.

Her eyes open just enough to look down at him. She coos with a horrible rasp that threatens to be a coug around her respirator. She gently pulls Peter until his head is cradled on her shoulder as she lays against the pillow she is as pale as. 

“Please,” Peter sniffles. “I still need you.” He cries.

She doesn’t try to speak anymore just cards a hand through his hair until she’s asleep again.

The nurse chases him out a few minutes later, “Go get some sleep, honey.”

Peter spends the rest of the night out patrolling with Gwen.

Gasping softly, Peter hides up on the top of the building as the police come to pick up the crooks webbed to the floor, his hand clamped over the oozing wound seeping blood between his gloved fingers.

He tries to move as the cops pull away, but the pain is swimming all around him. Weakening his knees. Cutting off his concentration.

“Peter,” Gwen says concernedly, “You are losing a lot of blood, if you don’t stop the bleeding soon, you will die. Do you want me to call Mr. Stark? He’s got that fancy pick up system for Supers.”

Peter grunts, he can do this on his own, “Just… Just give me a minute, okay?”

“Rupunzellllllll~!” Peter hears from the foot of the building, and when he peeks over, he is starkly relieved to spot Wade with a hand to this face cupping his fingers to help amplify the sound, “Let dooown~ your long haaair~!” he sing songs.

If Wade wants up, he has to climb, Peter ‘thwip’s Wade in the suited chest with a long string of web and sticks the other end to the building.

Wade made it over the edge of the building with a huff, "Well, that felt like a good role play, but next time, I want to be the one who doesn't have to repel up a building without a harness or counter weight-" his eyes land on Peter. "Peter!"

"Wade," Peter says, and the weakness in his body makes it sound like a cry for help, but honestly, it kind of is, so Peter can't complain.

With a long string of curses, Wade is at Peter’s side prying away Gwen’s and Peter’s fingers from the wound and covering it with his own as he simultaneously digs through his multitude of pouches for medical supplies. 

“What the hell Gwen?” he hisses.

“What?! Does this suit look like I carry medical supplies?”

“You’re supposed to keep him safe!”

“You don’t know how reckless he’s being,” She hissed back and got to her feet. Her white gloves stained red. “You do it next time! I’m going home.”

Wade turned back to Peter.

“This is what happens when you try to go out, Petey. We have to patch you up before we can send you back out. I said I wouldn't say I told you so, but yeah.” He pulls out superglue and gets to work closing the wound. 

Peter just grits his teeth and bares it. 

When the wound is closed, Wade picks Peter up all superhero like. 

Peter rests his head on the merc’s strong shoulder and tries not to pass out, which is less successful than he could have hoped. He wakes up to Wade gingerly laying him down on their living room couch. 

Wade pulls off his mask and Peter does the same.

The following stare off is tense.

Darkness dangling in his honey dark, gold eyes. Wade is too concerned to look at.

Peter pushes back his sweaty curls from his forehead and frowns as he looks away, spitting out his demand like poison, "Just say it."

Wade sighs and steps away, "You need to be smarter about this."

Peter feels his lips twitch, but his tensing pulls at his stomach wound and he puts a hand to the skin on instinct. “I don’t need you to baby me-”

“You’re my friend, Peter,” Wade knelt down to meet Peter’s eyes again, but Peter turned away again.

“I’m not five. I can take care of myself!”

Wade grabbed Peter’s chin and turned it back toward him, their eyes both fierce and upset. “You have a healing factor, not a bring you back from the dead factor. If this is about May-”

Peter used one hand and super strength to shove at Wade’s chest to send the merc back and onto his ass. “This isn’t about May!”

Wade went red, matching Peter’s temper with his own, “Then what is it about?!”

Peter bit his tongue until he tasted blood.

“I know you want to save her, but cancer ain’t something you can web away-”

“Wade!” Peter snapped again.

“You can’t keep doing this! Going out looking for a fight. That’s not what heros do!”

“Well maybe  _ I _ do!”

Wade didn’t dignify that with a response. 

Peter tried not to think about May.

He really did.

“Hey,” Wade whispers, kneeling down to wipe away tears from Peter’s face with both hands, cupping Peter’s face when he is done and then it’s just them two again. “I’m sorry,” Wade says.

Peter releases a soft breath.

“I’m sorry she’s sick. She’s a really good person.”

“The best,” Peter agrees.

“Too good,” Wade hums and drops his head forward so their foreheads are pressed together.

Tenderness. How does Wade do it? Make Peter feel like he’s weightless with the ease of his friend’s care. So easily given, so hard to return.

Peter ducks his head away with the pretense of looking down through the tear in his Spider-Man suit to the half healed wound underneath. 

Wade gingerly swipes a finger over it, making Peter hiss. “Looks like you’ll be fine by morning, but I’ll get you something to drink. You lost a lot of blood before I patched you up.”

Peter hums as tiredness takes over.

May used to hum in her sleep.

He leans back to rest his head on the arm rest, not the softest pillow but it will do.

Wade comes back with a few bottles of water that Peter downs pretty quick as the merc settles on the couch with Peter’s feet in his lap. He pulls off Peter’s boots and rubs away the ache until Peter falls asleep.

Sometime in the night Peter wakes up to his phone going off in the next room

Taking care to be gentle on his stomach, though the wound has healed while he slept, he slumps to the room and digs through his backpack for his now silent phone. 

He’s missed a few calls from the hospital. 

He calls them back instantly.

The nurse that answers recognizes his voice. He’s polite to Peter. He’s sincere. Straight forward. He’s got a deep voice. It rumbles when he talks. It reminds Peter of Wade.

Peter hangs up.

He sits on the floor of his messy room.

“Petey?” Wade asks as he sits next to him. He’s wearing his civies. Soft, fluffy grey pajama pants and a plain white tee.

Peter touches Wade’s knee. Feels the fluffy material. 

Wade grabs his fingers, “Peter? Was that the hospital? What’d they say? Should we go down there?”

Peter drops his head to Wade’s shoulder, “She’s dead.”

Wade’s whole body deflates. “What?” he breathes.

Peter stands up and crawls onto his bed.

Wade follows, “Pete, what did you say? This isn’t funny.” Peter pulls his pillow over his head, but Wade rips it away. “Peter! Say sike right now!”

When Peter looks over his shoulder Wade looks furious even if there is a steady stream of tears down his cheeks. Peter thinks he should be crying. But he’s to numb. Confused. Somehow the pain of it has stolen his tears.

“Wade,” his voice breaks, and Wade collapses against his chest in a mess of tears.

  
  
  
  


The apartment is dark again when Peter wakes up.

He rolls over and feels… 

This isn't new. 

This feeling in Peter's chest.

Wade is asleep beside Peter in his bed. 

He smells like salt. He smells like his lotion, but more so like tears.

Peter wishes he could cry into his pillow. 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up as Wade is holding him.

Peter’s shaking. His nightmare’s still painfully clear in his head. 

His eyes are dark in the dim light. 

He looks exhausted.

Peter curls against his chest, Wade’s hand coming up to hold him close. 

He curled forward and tucked his head under Wade’s chin, hiding from the world in the comfort of Wade. His wide chest beating a wonderfully docile beat, and his breathing soft in Peter’s hair. 

Almost as if on cue, the cell phone on Wade's side of the bed vibrated. 

“White,” the bigger man grumbled to himself, still half asleep, “Make it stop.” Wade hissed, “I don’t care if you’re just a fabrication of my brain. I gave you a job, you lazy sonofa-”

Peter squirmed under Wade’s chin, and the ex-merc sighed, his eyes fluttering open to look down at Peter, but it doesn’t last long because Wade turns over to pick up his phone and swiped to answer. 

“This better be good,” Wade grumbles and Peter can hear Captain America’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It’s actually not all that good. We could use some help. We’re at Tony’s tower.” 

Wade rolls to a sitting position, with a groan. “I’m on my way.”

“Wade,” Cap says before Wade can hang up, “Hurry.” Then the line goes dead.

Wade is up in a second, but he takes a moment to turn back to Peter, there is something in his eyes. But Wade shakes it off and hurries to his room to suit up.

Peter’s phone went off a second later, Tony Stark’s brisk voice against Peter’s ear, “We’re calling you in, Pete. Suit up. Meet at my house.” The line went dead before Peter could reply, it must be bad.

Peter tossed back the sheets. 

Wade was in his suit when Peter got out. 

They seemed to freeze at the same moment.

Peter could feel Wade’s eyes on him. 

Peter shakes his head and fidgets with his mask.

Wade sags and they leave through the back door. Sliding out onto the fire escape and into the alley before taking off on foot toward Manhattan, taking to the sky when the buildings got tall enough, Wade keeping himself on Peter like an oversized backpack with pure body strength.

Peter is out of breath though by the time they swing onto the balcony on Tony’s floor of the Stark Tower, rolling apart then racing to the thick glass doors only finding Cap, Mr. Barnes, and Tony in the lounge area, all out of suit and a little baffled at their sudden entrance.

They looked more relaxed then Peter was prepared for. “I thought it was an emergency,” Peter growled with a hand on his hip. 

Rolling his eyes, Tony waved them toward the couches, “It is. We need to talk.”

Wade started toward the couches but stopped when he found Peter not beside him, but back by the door frozen solid, his shoulders at his ears.

“What’s this about?” Peter asked carefully. Wade took cue from Peter and slowly blacked toward the door until he could grab Peter’s hand.

“See this is what I was talking about,” Tony spoke up behind them, “You guys dating or what?”

Is this really what the emergency was about? Peter turned on his heel ready to yell when Cap interrupted. 

“Tony, we aren’t here to gossip,” he sighed, “It’s none of our business if they’re-”

Tony cut him off with a scandalized look, “None of your business maybe.”

“He’s not really your son,” Mr. Barnes drawled from his deceptively lazy sprawl on the couch beside Cap, “You know that, right?”

Tony went quiet and looked a little hurt. It was odd to see Tony lost for words.

Captain America cleared his throat and when the two at the door turned to him, he swept an arm at the couches, “We need help on a mission, we were hoping for some back up.”

Neither moved.

“Pete?” Tony asked, he looks honest to god distressed. “How’s May?”

“She’s…” Peter hesitates. It wasn’t so long ago that Tony had relentlessly flirted with May. Made her blush. Made her smile. But that was… years ago now that Peter thought about it.

And the flirting never meant anything to him. 

He didn’t see how May had floated around the condo after his comments. Didn’t see how she needed those words.

Tony hadn’t even gone to see May this stint in the hospital. 

He doesn’t care. Not about her at least.

Peter crosses his arms, “She’s fine.”

“Spidey,” Wade gasps.

Tony falters, “Peter, I get it. You’re growing up. Making friends and everything. I think it’s time you reconsider joining the team. You could be one of us too. I think you need to be.”

Wade perks up at this.

Peter shakes his head, backing away. He feels…  _ hurt  _ of all things.

He moves past the glass doors. He’s out on the balcony. He’s moving toward the edge. 

Tony catches his arm, concern in his voice, “Pete!”

Peter turns to Tony. “You don’t get to care about me,” Peter whispers. “You don’t get to worry about her.”

“Of course I do,” he scoffs. “Someone has to.” So self assured. 

Peter reels back his fist. He watches Tony’s eyes widen in shock.

Wade is there. He grabs Peter’s hand before it even moves an inch forward.

“Webs,” Wade says, “That’s enough. He just wants to help. He’s shit at it, yes, but… he does care, Petey.”

Peter pulls his fist away, taking another step back. 

Wade has himself between Peter and Tony, but they can still see each other. Peter refuses to look at him. “You don’t get to care about me, Tony.” 

“You can’t stop me from caring about you!” Tony shouts drawing Peter’s masked eyes over to him. He tries to push past Wade, but the man can be immovable when he wants to be. “You can’t push me out now,” Tony shouts, hurt evident.

“Why?” Peter hissed. “So you can abandon me like everyone else? But that’s all you know. Use ‘em and lose ‘em. Huh, Tony?”

“I would never-”

“You did it to May! And now she’s gone and you don’t even care!” 

Tony’s eyes are wide.

Peter scoffs in disbelief.

“Petey,” Wade grabbed his shoulder and Peter’s sails die out.

He can’t stand to look at Tony anymore. He looks up at Wade. “Can we go home?” Peter whispers.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Tony tries, but Peter grabs a handful of the front of Wade’s suit and lets himself fall off the edge of the balcony. Wade comes with him.

He curls Wade against his chest as they fall, and Wade wraps himself around Peter just in time for him to cast out his first web. He swings them as close to home as he can get. 

They land on a building a decent ways away from home. 

Wade is off Peter in a second, but he hovers over him when Peter rips off his mask and hyperventilates into his own hands.

He’s never spoken to Tony like that before. He respects Tony. Loves Tony to some extent. He’s a mentor. A father figure. Even as distant as the man usually is. 

He wants to run back and apologize, even if he meant every word.

Peter feels Wade wrap him up in his arms. He doesn’t let go until Peter can breathe regular again.

“You want to tell me what the heck that was all about?” Wade asks.

“Not really,” Peter breaths against his shoulder.

“That mission could have been really important. If they were calling the both of us in on it. It was important to me. You have to talk to me.”

“Wade-” 

He pulls away putting space between them, “I know you, Webs,” Wade says softly, “I know you want everyone to be a big happy family, What the hell was that?”

“It’s Tony’s fault she was alone,” Peter says, his voice worn and dry. Painful. 

Wade shakes his head, “She wasn’t alone, Baby boy. She’s had you.”

“That’s not good enough,” Peter swallows and the truth comes out, “I’m not good enough. I didn’t save her. I was out- doing what I do- while she was-” 

Peter wishes he could cry. To give some exit to the grief ripping him apart inside.

  
  
  


The apartment is in good order when they tumble in from the window.

Peter lands on his back with Wade on top of him, the huge man cuddling into Peter’s stomach like a child.

Peter’s mind snaps to him doing the same, innocent cuddling to May.

He jerks away from Wade.

“Sorry,” Wade is quick to say as he gets to his feet.

“ ‘S fine,” Peter lies and pulls off his mask as Wade walks to his room.

Peter gets up. Goes to his room.

Instead of dwelling on it, Peter shucks his suit and slips into shorts and a loose tank top

He slides into the living room listening to Wade stumble around in his own room.

Peter tries to distract himself, he checks his bruised knee from falling earlier but it’s just that. Bruised.

Sighing, Peter falls back against the couch cushions. 

Peter’s eyes find the pop of color on the coffee table, he reaches for it. His heart stops.

Wade walks into the living room.

“What the fuck is this?” Peter growls, balling up and throwing the pamphlet at him.

Wade catches the ball, “I don’t…” he unwraps the ball and spots the front of it. He goes a little green, but he looks hard at Peter when he looks up. “We need this,” Wade frowns, “Where’s the card that was with it? The lady I talked to was nice-”

“Wade, we don’t need it,” Peter hissed, as Wade scoured the coffee table until he found the funeral director’s business card.

“Yeah, we fucking do,” Wade grumbled, low enough to be talking to himself.

“Wade,” Peter growled, grabbing his wrist, “Stop, please.”

Looking up, Wade’s face crumbled. “We need to- she deserves a funeral, Pete. A pretty, bright thing with hella flowers and all her friends and family-”

“Stop,” Peter shouted, “Just…  _ stop _ .”

Wade looked at the clock, “Fine we don’t have to talk about this right now. But eventually.”

Wade gathered the handful of other pamphlets and papers from the coffee table and hurried them off to his room. 

Peter startled when someone knocked on the door, but a second later, “Peter~” Gwen sang through the door. 

“Happy birthday to you~” Harry sang, “Happy birthday~”

“Shush,” Gwen laughed, “You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

Peter slumped into the couch, “Jesus,” he reeled from the whiplash, but he got up and knocked on Wade’s door, “Gwen and Harry are here.” Then he moved to the front door and let his best friends in as they sang too loud to be allowed.

“Told you he’d be awake,” Gwen smirked, pushing past Peter with a kiss to the cheek. She was carrying a white box that Peter recognized from her favorite bakery.

“It’s not even my birthday,” he sighs.

Wade came out with his inducer on, “Heya, sweetie,” she kissed his cheek too. Peter cringed at how the nanotec must have felt against her mouth. “Wanna take a peek?” she asked without missing a beat.

Wade smiled at her and they disappeared into the kitchen. 

Harry hooked an arm around Peter’s shoulder. He had a stack of pizzas in the other arm.

“I got all pepperoni,” he smiled, setting them on the coffee table. “Wade can have pineapple on pizza when I’m cold and dead.”

“He might kill you,” Peter smirked hollowly when Harry shrugged disbelievingly. If only he knew Wade used to kill guys for money.

It was probably for the best Harry never knew that little factoid. For everyone’s sake.

Gwen comes out of the kitchen with wine glasses too full to be respectable.

“Wine and pizza?” Harry asked as he took his glass, sipping it to get a reasonable distance of space between rim and the deep, red liquid. 

“Pizza has cheese on it,” Gwen says with a sad huff. Taking the floor next to Wade as Peter and Harry take the couch.

Peter can’t help feeling like an outsider as his friends all engage with each other.

“No pineapple?” “Over my dead body.” “Don’t tempt him.” Laughing. Joking. Wine and pizza and Peter doesn’t feel like he can breath through it all.

Gwen and Harry heard about May probably- definitely from Wade- and this whole thing is an attempt to cheer them up. Cheer Peter up.

He ends up draining his glass a few times, and everytime someone is there to fill it until all four of them are completely smashed and three empty bottles of wine are on the coffee table next to a tower of empty pizza boxes.

Gwen brings out her deserts. Peter’s heart hurts as she lights the candle precariously held up between two cannoli. 

May used to make the worst cannoli. 

Peter can see the answering sadness in Harry and Gwen’s eyes, and some sort of understanding in Wade’s. 

Peter eats four.

He doesn’t really even taste them.

Morning comes with Peter the only one awake as Wade and Gwen sleep on each other, Harry passed out on the couch.

Peter sighed and turned out the window he was perched on. Running a hand through his wild hair and frowns at his fingers as they plucked at the loose threads of Wade’s sweater that Peter doesn’t remember putting on.

“Hey,” Wade whispers as he sits up wiping his eyes. It makes sense Wade’s the first one awake. His motablizism eats alcohol quickly. 

“Hey,” Peter’s voice broke. He wasn’t sure why, until he is.

Wade steps over Gwen and kneels at Peter’s feet, his chin on Peter’s knee.

Peter sighed, running a hand down Wade’s nantec’ed face. The bigger man nuzzled into the touch. Grabbing Peter’s fingers to kiss them almost as thank you.

“You were in your head all night.” Wade frowned, and Peter cupped his jaw and rubbed his thumb over the offending technology that blocked Peter’s view of Wade’s actual face. His actual sadness,

“I’m sorry,” Peter says softly.

Wade holds Peter’s hand to his face as he stands, using his free hand to pull Peter’s forehead against his own. It tingles. “You don’t have to be sorry, Pete,” Wade whispers. “ I know it hurts.”

And oh, does it hurt. Hurts and hurts and hurts. Soul deep thing that Peter is sinking into. He can feel it tainting him. Darkening his mood. Staining his skin. Drowning his soul.

Swallowing, Peter leans just a few inches closer and presses a soft kiss to Wade’s mouth, the nanotec strange but warm under his lips.

Whether Wade feels the same about him or not. Peter can’t leave knowing Wade doesn’t know. Doesn’t know how he feels. 

He’s tired of being a coward. Of hiding. Of denying himself. He loves Wade Wilson. Always has. Always will.

Peter tried to pull away but Wade’s hands cup Peter’s face as he just holds Peter close. Almost close enough to kiss.

It’s warm. Safe. Home. Slightly awkward thanks to the image inducer. But safe like being close to Wade is.

Wade’s arms keep Peter close as he noses into Peter’s hair. Peter holds tight to the front of Wade’s sweater. They stay that way for a long time. Holding each other.

“I have to tell you something.” Wade whispers and pulls back, “You don’t have to say it too. I just… I love you,” Wade confesses. “I haven’t felt like this since Vanessa… Hell, I didn’t even feel like this with her. This is different. You’re different. You don’t have to love me. You never have to. I can be yours, and you never mine. I can live that way. I promise, I won’t ever take you from yourself.”

“I-I-I,” Peter shuddered, and closed his eyes. “I love you, too.”

Wade holds him close again, and if Peter ever thought a hug could speak before. He can hear words in this one. A poem of loving and sadness and hope and dreams like flowers blooming in his chest.

“Wade,” Peter gasps as he pulls away. “I’m hungry,” he lies.

Wade smiled a small thing and huffed out a laugh. “Sure thing. On it, Baby boy.” He rose and headed to the kitchen, leaving Peter alone at the living room window.

On shaking legs, Peter stepped over Gwen.

Goes to his room. Grabs an armful of clothes into his backpack. 

Zipping it silently closed, sliding it on as he walked out into the living room again.

He stared at the door where he could hear Wade shuffling around in the kitchen.

He got to the window. He went out on the fire escape. He hardly felt himself slowing as he raced down the metal steps. He jumped over the railing, landing perfectly on his toes from the two story drop. He took off in a dead sprint down the alley.

“Peter!” Gwen called. He hadn’t heard her follow him, but she grabs his arm and reels him around. “Where are you going?” she hisses, her voice breaking, she shoves him. “Huh? Where you going, you webhead?”

“Leave me alone,” Peter grits through his teeth. “I need to do this.”

“Do what?! He loves you! You love him!” she shoves him again.

“He doesn’t love me,” Peter hisses, “not really.”

“Peter!” Gwen yelled, throwing a weak punch at his chest.. “You know what he’s been through. He wouldn’t say something like he did unless he meant it!”

“You listened to us?”

“You were making out five feet away from me, what was I supposed to do? Clear my throat?” 

“Go away,” Peter says, advancing on her, “I don’t need you.”

Gwen’s fury intensified, she threw a real punch, he barely dodged it. “You need him!”

“I don’t need anyone!”

“You need him! Don’t run. He’s good Peter!  _ He’s good _ .”

“He’s perfect,” Peter agreed angrily and starts to hyperventilate.

Gwen tries to calm him down. She pets his face and holds his hand and he cries into her shoulder, but eventually, Peter just hoists his bag on his shoulder and flees.

  
  


Taking the stairs up from the street, Peter jogs up to the front door. 

He takes out the key in his back pocket.

Like always, the lock sticks.

He promised her he’d fix it for her. Already he’s thinking about turning back. Doesn’t want to face it. Doesn’t want to feel it.

But, he fiddles with the lock until it unsticks and pushes his way inside.

It doesn’t smell abandoned like he thought it would. It’s been aired out recently. The shelves dusted. The plants watered. Picture frames polished.

Swallowing, Peter steps up to the mantle over the faux fireplace. This high school graduation photo is front and center next to his bachelor’s graduation photo. But his eyes are drawn to the other photos stacked on the small space. Mary and Richard’s wedding photo. May and Ben’s wedding photo. Then the multitude of Peter. His first Christmas with May and Ben. his first loose tooth. His first skinned knee from when he was learning to skateboard the summer after middle school. Easter. Halloween. Birthdays. Framed hand drawn father’s day cards to Ben. Mother’s day cards to May.

In a daze, Peter backs away. Takes in the rest of the well loved room. Throw blankets, and nicknacks. There’s a pile of mail on the coffee table the neighbor lady who waters the plants must have brought in too.

Moving toward the stairs, Peter’s eyes gaze over the photos that trail up the stairs with him. 

More of Peter. More of Ben. More of May.

The first door at the top of the stairs is Peter’s old room. He drops his bag on his old bed. 

Peter sits at the desk and wipes the tears from his face. 

He’s been steadily crying since he walked in down stairs, but there’s something hard growing in his chest like a knot. Like he could break the world in his hands.

When he was a teen, MJ had found out what he was. Who he was. Spider-Man. 

She was afraid. Like Harry would have been afraid. Would be still.

The only reason Gwen hadn’t run screaming was because she was like him. Because they’d found each other while in the suits. Because he’d lifted a burning bus off of her. And the next day she’d walked into his advanced biochemistry on crutches and Peter’s arm was in a sling and they’d just known each other though they’d never met. Instinatiously bonded. 

Meeting Wade… 

Peter had just needed a roommate so he could get the hell out of his shitty studio apartment… he hadn’t expected to find… to be...

Walking out of the small room Peter heads to the master bedroom. 

May’s pill bottles litter the bedside table. An oxygen tank tucked in the corner of the room. The bed was made, the lights off. Damn her. She was a neat person, never leaving clothes on the floor or books on tables. She could have been here an hour ago, and Peter wouldn’t have known.

Crossing the floor to her bed felt like crossing an ocean without a paddle, his limbs like lead, his heart heavy and disbelieving. He sat at the foot of the bed, falling back into the comforter to stare up at the ceiling fan. Exhausted. 

May, of all people, had introduced Wade to Peter. 

Peter had come into her room during one of her chemo sessions to bring her her bag of knitting and Wade had been there chatting her up. The nurses at the hospital all too afraid to kick him out when he was in his suit. 

She had mentioned that Peter was Spider-Man and needed a roommate with the kind of confidence that only someone as smart as May could. She knew Peter was safe in Wade’s hands. Trusted Peter to be a safe enough place for Wade.

Wade was a gift Peter didn’t deserve.

But Peter wasn’t a safe place. 

He was Spider-Man.

He was reckless.

He was meant to be alone.

Didn’t deserve friends.

Because in the end, even with all the super strength, he wasn’t strong enough.

He couldn’t carry anymore.

Not the faded memories of his parents. Not the fading memories of Ben. Not the still too fresh pain of remembering May. 

Her smile. Her laugh. Her voice when she was mad. Happy. Sad. The sound of her cough. The feeling of her cold fingers against his cheek.

Peter rolled to his side as he sobbed.

He missed her so much.

He wanted to scream.

Hit.

Fight.

He wanted to hold her hand even if it meant she was still suffering. He wanted to hold her hair as she puked from radiation, as long as she wasn’t someone else he had to remember. Wasn’t yet a memory. 

He was selfish. He was a child. A brat. A fucking disgrace to the Parker name. To his superhero identity.

He  _ should _ be the one suffering. 

God, what he would give to see her just one more time.

But she was gone.

No more hugging or holding or touching. No more having to watch the world flirt with her.

No more trips to the hospital. 

No more pill cocktails.

Oxygen tank refills.

Beeping monitors.

Or knitted sweaters.

No more terrible cannoli. 

  
  
  
  
  


Peter wakes up to a dark room. The day has come and gone as he cried.

He goes to the bathroom. Stares in the mirror for a long time. Strips. Showers. Redresses in clothes from his backpack. Crawls into her bed. And sleeps through the night.

The next few days are a blur.

He’s in the middle of eating some leftover takeout from down the street when the front door opens.

He figures it must be the neighbor coming to water the plants again.

“Mrs. Nesbit?” Peter calls through the door, not moving from his spot at the table. Too tired to move, but not wanting to scare her. “It’s-”

“Peter?” a distinct voice calls. It is not Mrs. Nesbit. Not unless she’s taken up chain smoking.

Wade pushes through the door to the kitchen.

He’s wearing his civies. Inducer included.

He looks exhausted even through the nanotec.

“Take that thing off,” Peter says before Wade can open his mouth again.

Wade frowns but complies. Then he sits at the table opposite Peter. “I gotta admit,” he says softly, “Not the best hiding place.”

“First place you looked?” Peter asks blandly, his voice a little hoarse from crying for days straight.

Wade nodded, “Gwen thought you’d go out of the city. She was really worked up.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers looking down at his fork as it plays with his fried rice. “I just needed to be alone… feel my feelings and all that crap.”

“That’s what I told her.”

Peter pushed his food away. “I could feel you guys watching me. Even from across the street.”

Wade pulled the plate toward himself and used Peter’s fork to take a bite. “Harry took a shift,” he shrugs almost nonchalantly. “You should have seen him. Suit. Binoculars. My blow-up Barbie ass cushion.” Peter was well familiar with the Barbie ass cushion. Wade always busted it out for stakeouts. “And his stupid tie around his head like Rambo or something.”

Peter chuckled, “We both know you put his tie around his head.”

Wade laughed darkly, “So what if I did?”

God. Wade. The easy way he makes Peter feel okay.

“Hey hey hey,” Wade coos and gets up to kneel in front of Peter. “Why the tears? What’s up Itsy Bitsy?”

Peter looks up at him and there are tears in Wade’s eyes. 

“Everyone said she would be okay. Or they hoped for it. But I knew. I  _ knew _ . I grieved her for so long.”

Wade pulled a sobbing Peter against his shoulder, “I know.”

“And now she’s really gone and I never really got to say goodbye. I had so much time and I wasted it.”

“Sh sh,” Wade pulled Peter off his chair into his lap, and Peter was so tired, he went without complaint.

“It’s so hard to be thankful she’s not in pain anymore,” Peter admits, and Wade flinches. “I don’t want her to be gone.”

“You don’t get to decide that, Petey. May deserves some peace.”

Peter nodded sadly. “She deserves it more than anyone else,” Peter sobs.

Peter cries for a long time, and Wade holds him, only squirming after twenty minutes when his legs start to fall asleep. They end up laying on the kitchen floor, wrapped in each other’s arms. 

Peter catches himself tracing Wade’s face scars with a fingertip after about an hour.

Wade was looking at Peter with such fondness and Peter knew he was blushing, been blushing.

“Wade, I-” “Peter, we-” they started at the same time.

“Go ahead,” Wade conceded, brushing a few stray hairs behind Peter’s ear.

Peter’s mouth snapped shut, but he leaned forward to press what was supposed to be an innocent kiss to Wade’s mouth, but once he was there, he didn’t want to leave.

He settled against Wade and just kissed and kissed and kissed. 

It felt good. Warm. Exciting. 

And hope bloomed like it hadn’t in days. Weeks? Years? 

“Peter,” Wade whispered against his ear, “We really need to get off the floor. My back is killing me.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh, “Wanna go home?”

“Please,” but when Wade went to get up Peter put a hand to his chest, “Sup, Petey?”

“Just one more kiss? I missed you.”


End file.
